


Lasso

by iggycakes



Series: Vignettes from Motorcity [3]
Category: Motorcity
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-08
Updated: 2012-10-08
Packaged: 2017-11-15 22:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iggycakes/pseuds/iggycakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "Guilt-Ridden Burner", in which the Duke of Detroit ruins a bunch of lives-- because he's really good at that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lasso

**Author's Note:**

> Because Mirre commissioned it and I had way too much fun writing it! Titled after Phoenix's "Lasso".

_Forever is a long long time_

_When you lost your way_

_Trying to follow your ideals (are sorry)_

_But your so-called life_

_It is such a waste_

_When you realize_

_No you don’t realize_

_What you say yes to_

_What you say yes to…_

-0-

“Didn’t you say you were never coming back?”

“Shut up, Duke.”

Mike pulled the covers over himself and turned away from the blond-brunet next to him. He buried his head in the uselessly fluffy pillows that decorated the Duke’s exquisite bed, hoping to disappear. Of course, the Duke really wasn’t having any of that. A wide toothy grin dressed itself upon his lips and Mike swore he could practically _see_ it even though he had his back turned. He heard the sheets shift and sound of wood creaking. Mike knew the Duke had sat up against the head board.

The Burner shrugged, sinking further into the sheets and into his own thoughts. It’s not like he wanted come back, but he couldn’t help it. There was very little he could do against pent-up frustration besides driving around in Mutt and running to the Duke for rough, mindless sex. The former solution had stopped working, leaving only the latter to save Mike’s dwindling sanity.

There was a reason for this. And it was more than just the sudden reprieve from Kane’s attacks, or the fact that Julie hasn’t come back from Deluxe in over a week and that he hasn’t heard from her for three days now, or that Jacob’s newest recipes have been giving him unmanageable stomach pains or that his best friend refused to talk to him about whatever it was that was happening to him lately. Mike shoved his face in the feathery pillow and forced himself to stopped breathing for a couple of minutes. Suffocating was a strangely comforting sensation when his mind began over-thinking and over-analyzing situations that really didn’t need any more than a second’s wonder. And lately, Mike’s been thinking way too much.

The brunet felt the Duke moving again, back down under the covers towards him. Calloused hands drew down his chest and his ribs before resting on his hips and wrapping around them. The Duke pressed himself against Mike’s back, holding him tightly—almost safely in his embrace. He cradled him, leaning his bearded chin on Mike’s soft hair. “Come on, Mike, tell Dr. Duke about all your problems.”

Mike made no reaction to the Duke’s sudden and unwarranted closeness. “I don’t come here to talk to you.”

“Et alors?” The Duke replied in that awful French accent of his. “Pretend you’re talking to yourself, then. It’s not doing you any good to leave my mansion _still_ frustrated.”

Mike snickered at that.

There was a little chip in the wall right across him, a tiny, barely noticeable dent in the Duke’s otherwise perfectly red and gold painted walls. It was an oddly conspicuous empty space, just considering that every other part of the room seemed to be obsessively decorated or furnished by some anal interior designer. Mike vaguely wondered if something hung in that spot at some point in time—a portrait, a poster or a painting of some kind, maybe. And while the thought hovered somewhere in the outer layers of his mind, he started talking to himself.

“It’s Chuck,”

The Duke resorted to lying (almost) completely still. His fingers tapped and strummed Mike’s lower chest area, like the brunet was some kind of guitar—but Mike had, by this point already gotten used to the Duke’s strange bed habits and dismissed the pleasant massage-like sensations.

“He’s been acting strange lately. Like happy strange.” Mike shrugged. “It’s eerie.”

“Maybe he’s in love.”

“I’m supposed to be talking to myself.”

The Duke grinned against Mike’s hair, smelling it while he did so. “Don’t mind me; it’s just your conscience speaking.”

Mike rolled his eyes. “Well, Jiminy Cricket, you’re wrong. I know Chuck when he’s in love and this isn’t it.”

The Duke wanted to point out that Mike still hasn’t noticed his own _best friend_ ’s obviously long-standing romantic infatuation for him, but refrained from doing so—because why inform him of anything when it was so much fun teasing his ignorance? The grin on his face merely widened as Mike went on to recite Chuck’s recent strange behavior. The blond had taken singing in the shower, skipping merrily to the gate whenever he was going out—or how he planted a big happy kiss on Mike’s cheek whenever the brunet agreed to drop him off whenever he needed to go somewhere, or how he sometimes just started giggling to himself while he worked on programming some of the new security tech him and Dutch were designing. On that note, where was Chuck going all the time anyway? Usually, he’d ask to get dropped off at Antonio’s, but Mike _knew_ he couldn’t possibly be staying there every time. Nobody went to Antonio’s three times a week. Heck, he’d even gone there the other day asking to ask the manager if he’d seen Chuck lately. Turns out, Chuck hasn’t been there since the last time all the Burners had dinner together.

“You’re acting like a father worried for his teenage daughter, Mr. Chilton.”

Mike flipped over under the sheets and looked up at the Duke with narrowed eyes. “And maybe that’s because Chuck’s been _acting_ like a teenage girl!”

“I’m telling you, your best friend is _en amour_!”

“And _I’m_ telling you,” Mike stretched his arm up to wrap them behind the Duke’s neck. There was a sly grin on his face, like he’d vented enough to go for a round three. Or was it four? Whatever. “That’s not it.”

The brunet didn’t want to tell the Duke what he thought it was, if it wasn’t Chuck-in-love. Honestly? It’s because the thought worried him—because it felt like Chuck was acting giddy and happy for the sake of acting giddy and happy. Not that it was forced cheerfulness or anything; it felt more like his best friend was teetering over the edge of going completely nuts. It was like, if Chuck wasn’t smiling, he was going to go mad… but mad with what? Mike had no idea. He had no idea what could be bothering enough that he wouldn’t dare talk to him about it. Sure, Chuck was entitled to secrets. Mike didn’t want to push the subject or anything. But he was worried. He was worried Chuck’s optimistic façade was there to be a sort of escape from whatever it was that was eating at him.

And the Duke merely continued to smirk at Mike, as if he was able to read his thoughts, as if he knew everything and as if he just didn’t feel like telling him a thing.

-0-

Dutch and Texas were quibbling mindlessly below about some new crazy addition Texas wanted done on Stronghorn. As usual, Dutch was profusely refusing the idea because one, he was still trying to improve the schematics on their new security system, and two, he had no idea where he was supposed to find a Tripartite Bell Hose. What the hell was a Tripartite Bell Hose supposed to look like anyway? Somehow, it hadn’t crossed Dutch’s mind that Texas made the name up and what he _really_ meant was an engine pipe with three exits and cute bells attached.

Chuck was sitting at the counter upstairs, vaguely listening to Dutch and Tex as they went on. He picked at the carrot-mustard cookies Jacob left out while he scrolled down huge block of code, scanning for possible errors. The mixture of numbers and letters had distracted him for a few hours, but they were getting blurry and meaningless to him now. Chuck blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes, wondering if he was sleepy, but it was only three in the afternoon. He shrugged, closing the computer and stretching his arms up. A sharp pang instantly hit both his lower back and hips and Chuck scrunched forward in pain.

He needed a walk or something.

“What are you up to, Chuck?”

The blond nearly fell off the stool at Mike’s sudden appearance. But he’d hugged the counter just in time and saved himself from further aches. Chuck’s legs hung awkwardly off the stool as he pulled himself back up and Mike took a seat next to him. His friend had that Mama-Mike-Chilton smile on his face and Chuck didn’t have to be his best friend to notice it.

“Just…” Chuck glanced sideways. “I finished coding the last bit for the new alarms. We could probably install it in a few days if Dutch can make up his mind about the schematics.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“No, Mike. It’s only thing you could’ve meant.”

Chuck snapped, jumping off the stool and stomping a few steps away. Sudden frustration washed over him, but it dissipated in a moment and, regretting his harsh words, the blond turned around. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

Mike waved his hand with a weak smile. “It’s cool. I got it, man. You don’t want to tell me yet.”

_I don’t want to tell you ever._

“But just remember I’m here, alright? I mean, you have been acting pretty strange lately and…”

_Whose fault was that?_

“Well, I wouldn’t want anything bad happening to you, Chuckles.”

_Too late._

Chuck smiled nonetheless, flipping his bangs aside. He extended a lanky arm towards his friend, patting him on the shoulder. “Quit worrying, Mikey.”

But that was the thing with Mike Chilton—he wasn’t going to stop worrying. He was going to worry about you until the end of the world. Even if there was one second left to a nuclear bomb, it wasn’t himself he’d be thinking of, it was everybody else. Half a moment left to live and he’d probably still wonder how he was going to take care of everyone in the afterlife, or something incredibly stupid like that. Chuck thought it was both Mike’s blessing and his curse.

He had no idea how much longer he could keep the game up— how much longer could he last before Mike found out about everything… Chuck cringed at the thought. He gave his friend a long look, wondering how his expressions would change once his whole lie fell apart. Would Mike stop worrying about him then? Or would he just worry more?

Chuck pulled his arm back and brushed past Mike.

“Where are you going?”

“Antonio’s.”

“I can drop you off.”

“No, it’s fine,” Chuck twisted his head, glancing sideways at Mike who was looking elsewhere. Shrugging, he continued on his way.

-0-

“I’m telling you Rayon, it’ll be fun.”

“No deal, Duke.” Rayon sighed, rubbing half of his face tiredly with his palm.

The blond-brunet on the holographic screen clicked his tongue. “Still as vanilla as ever. Fine, then, I’ll find someone else to complete my threesome fantasies.”

“Why does it have to be me? Rope Mike into it or something.”

“Trust me, darling. He was next on the list. I just thought you might want in.” The Duke laughed. “I know Chuck’s over there whenever he’s not with me.”

Rayon rolled his eyes, finger hovering over the ‘end call’ button when he realized he didn’t want the Duke to have the last word. So, he leaned his face forward, his dark eyes peering out from under his dark sunglasses, and smiled brightly. “Five hundred an hour, Duke.”

Before the blond-brunet could protest, Rayon hung up and watched the green holograms zip out into thin air. Okay, so maybe that was a little childish of him, but the Duke’s face at the end there was worth it. He would probably need to call him back later to tell him it was a joke. And a particularly well-timed joke, if he did say so himself—especially considering he didn’t think that one up in advance. It just seemed appropriate. Spontaneity sure was fun. Still grinning a little, Rayon got up from the desk and stepped out of the office.

He bumped into #2 and #3 on the way out and, though the men had their usual expressionless pouts on their face, Rayon could tell they were distraught. He sighed. “If this is about the couple in room 221, I’ll deal with them later.”

The two quiet men gestured after him, in protest, but Rayon brushed them off. “Or, you can tell them to just leave if they don’t like unscented bath oils. This is a motel, for heaven’s sake. What did they expect? Roses and strawberry-scented candles?”

Rayon stopped short, refusing to get so worked up over this. He re-tightened his tie and exhaled deeply, calming himself down. “If they keep giving you trouble, just evict them. I’ll be in my room.”

#2 and #3 watched Rayon disappear around the corner. The two looked at each other, still expressionless. Unfortunately, they hadn’t come down to the office to talk about the couple in room 221. In fact, they’d already evicted them this morning when #3 had caught the woman chasing after the man with a broomstick, naked, in the hallways. The single mother in room 212 was traumatized by this and #2 had to stay with her for two hours, listening to her go on about how miserable her life had become ever since her husband left her.  And, if Rayon had seen the three-page report sitting on his desk, he would have known about both these incidents. But, the boss had been distracted as of late and neither #2 nor #3 was going to blame him.

The two had come down for another reason entirely, but they supposed Rayon would find out in just a minute anyway.

-0-

Chuck couldn’t believe his eyes.

This was monumental—scandalous, absolutely hilarious. He pushed his bangs behind his ears and stared down at the little yellow notebook in his hands. It was a pocket-sized and nearly every page of it was filled with a wide variety of jokes, comebacks, witty one-liners and sarcastic replies. There were even detailed instructions to every line about how and when to use them—that it was important to consider atmosphere, context and the identities of those present before thinking of using any listed line. Chuck gawked at the clean handwriting in complete and utter disbelief. If it weren’t for the little “this notebook belongs to Rayon” written on the inside cover, Chuck would have never considered that this thing could even belong to him.

He walked backwards and fell onto Rayon’s bed behind him, sitting at the edge with the tiny book opened between his fingers.

The door opened then.

“R-rayon!” Chuck choked out.

Rayon stepped inside the room and took three looks at Chuck and the notebook in his hands. Oh hell no. He strode over elegantly to the bed, standing before the blond who stared up at him with a sheepish grin. Chuck was fighting back a flight of giggles when Rayon leaned over him.

“Give it here,” Rayon asked, nicely, as if completely unaffected.

“Wait, no! I’m still reading it!” Chuck leaned back on the bed, crawling onto it while moving back with his feet. Rayon followed, hovering over him as he tried to stretch his arms out to reach the notebook.

“You’ve read enough!”

“You don’t know that!”

Rayon looked down at Chuck, his sunglasses slipping off his face and falling onto Chuck’s chest. Chuck stared at them, then up at the other man. His cheeks reddened deeply at the sight Rayon’s dark eyes. They knew just how to stare at someone and make their heart skip several beats. It was almost enough for a heart attack. Chuck swallowed, unable to tear his off of Rayon who smiled at him lightly. Slender piano fingers wrapped themselves around Chuck’s chin and he froze, closing his eyes as Rayon’s face came nearer and nearer. The other man’s lips stopped just shy of his own. They lingered for just a moment before, suddenly, the weight was gone.

Chuck opened his eyes and Rayon was sitting comfortably at the edge of the bed with the notebook in his possession. The Burner twisted his head to look at his hand. Damn it, he was tricked. He sat back up and frowned. “That was cheap.”

Rayon toyed with the tiny book. The sunglasses were already back on his face. “Kisses come at a cost, Chuck.”

“And I’ll pay, so please?”

“You can’t afford me.”

“Then what am I making parts for you for?”

“The pleasure of my company.”

Rayon got up from the bed and walked over to the sideboard at the other end of the room. An intimidating-looking steel safe sat in it. Chuck cocked his head, trying look past Rayon’s back into what was in the safe, but he couldn’t. He could’ve sworn he’d seen a row of different coloured notebooks that looked exactly like the yellow one though. Did Rayon just have a huge collection of joke books or something? Why? Why did he need them anyway? Oh man. Did anyone else know? He doubted it. After all, if anyone else knew, why keep them all in a safe? God, the things people would say if they knew about this…

“If you’re thinking about blackmailing me, forget it.”

“I wasn’t!” Chuck shrugged. Really, he wasn’t. “But, knock-knock jokes? Come on, Rayon, not even you can make them funny.”

“Is that a challenge?” Rayon made his way back to the bed. He looked at the blond with a playful grin on his typically stern face. Chuck mumbled an indistinct noise in reply as Rayon pressed him down with his index finger. The burner stared up at him past the few strands of hair that haven’t fallen from his face yet. Rayon wrapped his arm under Chuck’s body. “Knock, knock.”

“Who’s there?”

Rayon didn’t reply. He merely swooped down and kissed the blond. His lips cushioned Chuck’s in a dry, but soft way—like he was sucking his breath away. And, though it was merely a peck, the blond was still left breathless by the sudden romance.

“That…” Chuck glanced away, embarrassed. “That wasn’t funny.”

“Hm,” Rayon sat up and tucked the younger man’s back against him gently. “Should I ask why you’ve come here unannounced?”

Chuck immediately felt his heart sank, realizing once again that he’s run away from his problems by coming here. He was acting no better than Mike who was escaping his frustrations by sleeping with the Duke. Not that he was sleeping with Rayon. Not that Rayon would sleep with him anyway. Did that make him pathetic? Desperate? Did he even want to sleep with Rayon? Like that was even a question—who wouldn’t want to sleep with him? Rayon was cool and suave and unbelievably handsome. Chuck should consider himself lucky that he was even giving him the light of day.

“It’s nothing. I just felt like seeing you, that’s all.” He replied, pulling his hair back on his face.

Rayon stopped him by grabbing his wrist. “You’re convincing no one.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Then for what other reason are you here?”

Chuck twisted his head to look up at him, pleadingly. And for a moment, Rayon felt his conviction waver. The blond was surprisingly persistent, for a coward. He sighed. Really, he was being far too kind to this kid. Had Chuck’s presence hit a weak spot in his heart or something? Perhaps. The kid was incredibly endearing, after all. In his defense, it was Chuck’s fault for being like this—so pitiful, and vulnerable. It was no wonder why the Duke preyed on him. Yet, for all his weaknesses, Chuck was still so honest.

Rayon leaned in again. _One more freebie_ , he told himself, watching Chuck’s eyes close behind largely parted bangs.

But, of course.

Two long beeps interrupted them. Chuck blinked at him, visibly displeased. And Rayon sighed. “Sorry, I should take this.”

The blond crawled off Rayon’s embrace to let him answer the call freely. He sat at the other end of the bed, against the headboard and watched as the other man adjusted his suit before answering. The Duke’s face appeared on the thin hologram, releasing a sort of eerie green glow. Chuck squeaked at the sight of the blonde-brunet, his back sinking down the headboard, leaving only his knees up in the air.

“Rayon!”

“What is it now?”

“I was a little hasty.”

“Yeah?”

“I made Mike the same proposal you refused and he—”

“You actually called Mike?”

Chuck perked up, throwing his knees down and dragging himself over behind Rayon with his elbows, hoping that would keep him out of the Duke’s sight. “What proposal?”

“Ooh, so Chucklecakes is there? Why don’t you say ‘hi’ to me, darling?”

The Burner refused to answer.

Rayon pressed the bridge of his nose and raised a hand up to the screen. “You _actually_ called Mike?” He repeated.

“Yes, I did.” The Duke answered, grinning widely, then immediately frowning. “Oh come on, think of it Rayon, two Burners in bed. Isn’t that a fantasy come true?”

“No,”

“Wait, what does he mean ‘two Burners in bed’?”

“Chuck, please.”

The Duke laughed, gesturing at himself. “I mean, me,” He gestured at the screen. “You,” Then, finally, he threw his arms up. “And Mike Chilton. In bed, together.”

The blond gaped wordlessly at the Duke’s green-tinted face on the screen. Then, he furiously shook his head, scooting off the bed. He tripped on his jeans and fell face first on the carpet. Rayon looked at him like he was being foolish, but Chuck was panicking. He jumped right back up, straightening his hair and clothes before mechanically heading towards the door.

“Chuck!” Rayon called after him.

“I’llcallyoulater,alright?”

After the door had closed behind the blond, Rayon returned his attention to the Duke. “So?”

“So what?”

“How’d the call go?”

“Oh, you mean with Mike. Right.” The Duke cleared his throat. “You see, it slipped my mind that I never told him I was also sleeping with Chuck.”

“Pretty sure Mike didn’t take that too lightly.”

“Ah, nope. Not at all. He bolted out of here swearing.” He snickered, throwing himself back and slapping his knees in hilarity. “It was quite something. The security cameras caught some of it. You should see it, Rayon. It is priceless.”

Rayon rolled his eyes. Leave it to the Duke to ruin single-handedly a couple of lives without even realizing it. “Is that all Duke?”

“Oh no, no, no! Wait, I still had something else.”

“Get on with it, then.”

“Alright, so you see, while I was talking to Mike, I also happened to mention that Chuck was running over to your place every once in a while too.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Mike’s probably driving over right no—”

Rayon didn’t wait to hear the rest.

-0-

It was one of those really slow days for Dutch. Not exactly a bad day, but it hadn’t been going terribly good either. He woke up late and drove groggily back to the garage with the two canvases he’d been working on for that past two days—right on time for his deadline too. So, more or less in a decent mood, Dutch made himself a cup coffee and sat down in the lounge when Chuck reminded him that he still had schematics to look over for the alarm system. His mood had begun souring then. A five minute review turned into three hours of figuring what would be way to get the new system installed without removing the old one entirely. He’d considered a purely digital update, but they had to the change the wiring—so the process was going to take some menial work regardless. But before Dutch could explode from a headache, Texas had come to distract him.

As usual, dealing with Texas had taken up exorbitant amounts of time— especially since Mike was busy pretending not to brood (like you’re fooling anyone Mikey) and Chuck was busy being stranger than he already was. Of course, when Dutch had brought the subject of Mike and Chuck up, Texas chalked it up to ‘It’s probably that time of the month or something’.

Dutch still wasn’t sure if Texas actually knew what that meant or it he’d heard it from one of his old movies. Then again, where was one supposed to hear about womanly, eh, problems in vintage Kung-Fu films?

So, when Jacob came out with strangely green cookies and Texas got momentarily distracted by their colour, Dutch took the chance to bolt out of the garage for a bit. Besides, he had to deliver these canvases to Rayon anyway.

When Dutch walked into Skylark, two of Rayon’s posse was huddled together by the wall looking awfully (and expressionlessly) distraught by something.

“Hey, uh, where can I—?”

“Dutch!?”

The sound of a familiar voice cut Dutch short. He quickly shot his eyes down the hall at the tall blond figure. Chuck slowed down as he recognized his fellow Burner, his steps becoming a percentage more mechanic as he approached. He laughed nervously, glancing curiously behind and around him while scratching the back of his neck.

“Chuck, what are you doing here? Thought you’d gone to Antonio’s?”

“Ah, yeah, well, uh…” Chuck’s gaze wandered swiftly all over the place, like he was both looking for and avoiding something. “Did Mike happen to come with you or something?”

“Mike?” Dutch narrowed his eyes. “No. He’s still at HQ as far as I know.”

Chuck’s nervous laughter turned into a weak snicker. “Right.”

Dutch couldn’t understand why the blond seemed so unconvinced. “Why? What’s up? Did I miss something?” He frowned. “Did you two get into a fight?

“No, but we’re probably about to.”

“What?”

“Dutch? What are you doing here?”

Dutch twisted his head to see a familiar brunet. “Mike? What…?”

Mike didn’t wait for Dutch’s reply. He merely walked passed him, taking his place in front of Chuck, who seemed to be shrinking into a nervous fit of giggles. “Hey, Mike.” The blond croaked, dryly.

“Chuck,” Mike chimed afterwards, equally as dry.

Dutch watched the two stare at each other intensely, with absolutely no remote idea of what could possibly be going on. “Alright, you two, what’s going on?”

He was about to pull the two best friends apart when a hand had come to his shoulder. It was Rayon, looking as suave as usual—but somehow kind of tired as well. “Long story,” He told him.

And Dutch raised a brow, also unable to fathom how Rayon could know more of the story than he did. But because the guy looked so tired and because it looked like Mike and Chuck had gone into their own little bubble, Dutch decided to drop it. He sighed, handing the canvases over to the other man. “Long day, huh?”

“Yeah, you have no idea.”

_No you don’t realize_

_What you say yes to…_

 

-0-


End file.
